


The Other Choice

by Aerilon452



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A/U, Brienne deserved better than Jaime, Complete, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerilon452/pseuds/Aerilon452
Summary: Brienne makes a choice.





	The Other Choice

The Great War had been won, the battle for Winterfell was now over. It had been two days since the Night King and his Commanders were defeated. Two days since their forces had been soundly decimated until a fraction of their combined armies were left alive. Brienne picked her way through the halls that remained, searching for any place she might stretch out and sleep for a few hours. Every bed, every scrap of floor, ever bench and window seat was taken. Even she had given up her room to the wounded who needed it. Finally, she came to another door, opened it, and found a bed, but sadly it was occupied. At the moment, she wasn’t too proud to share, even if she would be sharing with the wildling who kept leering at her. Tormund Giantsbane looked to be sleeping soundly and there was enough room for her. Going to the foot of the bed, she swatted at his foot and growled, “Move over.” 

Tormund had finally found an empty room to rest, to lay his weary body down and let sleep taken him to start the healing process. His body felt like stone from the final battle, his mind was filled with fog, and his heart was heavy with the weight of loss. The dead were beyond counting. He was potentially the last of the free folk left breathing. That, more than anything, had worn him down, had him finding an empty room to lick his wounds in peace. Before too long, he found himself lying down and closing his eyes. The sleep would be welcome. At least it had been until someone had hit his foot, jarring him awake. The voice, however, was one he knew. Opening one eye – it was all he could manage in his exhausted state – he playfully said, “This is a dream come true.” 

Brienne sighed. She was in no mood to argue. So, she said simply, “There is nowhere else to sleep.” He grunted and moved over like she had asked. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled off her boots and stretched out. She was going to be stubborn and leave the covers bunched between them as a sort of barrier in case he tried anything. Though, she doubted he would. Underneath it all, he was a good man, honorable. Sighing in contentment, Brienne closed her eyes, and started to let her body drift. 

Tormund hadn’t noticed at first, but when it went quiet in the room, he felt a slight tremor. He wasn’t shaking. Focusing his senses, he felt it coming from beside him, from her. Quickly, he flung the fur blankets over her and pulled her close to him. He always did run a little hotter than any of his other brethren. When she stiffened, started to push at him, he grumbled, “You’re shivering. I’m keeping you from freezing to death.”

Brienne didn’t want to sink into the warmth of his body, but she was freezing right down to her bones. The war had left her drained, like everyone else. She was tired of fighting. So, she nodded, and snuggled closer to him. Her forehead touched his bearded cheek as she let her body shake from the cold, from the warmth seeping into her. 

Tormund ran his hand up and down her back, soothing her gently. “I won’t let you freeze,” he whispered, moving his head to place a soft kiss to her brow. It was then he thought he heard her utter a half laugh. Though, through the chattering of her teeth, he couldn’t be sure. He was going to enjoy this moment of calm for however long it lasted. 

Brienne shifted against him, slipping her right leg between his thighs, and bringing her hands up against his chest to warm her fingers. “I’m so tired…” she mumbled. Her eyes grew heavier and heavier with each exhalation of breath.

“Then sleep,” Tormund replied, kissing her brow again. To show her it was safe to give in, to let herself fall asleep, he tightened his hold on her. There were no dead things lying in wait to attack her. She was safe with him, and she always would be.

Brienne didn’t argue. She took this moment to trust him and to fall into slumber. It was easier than she thought. With each exhalation, she felt her body getting heavier and heavier. The last thing she noticed was that Tormund had started breathing in sync with her. That thought went with her into sleep. 

 

MORNING:

At some point during the night Tormund and Brienne had shifted. He had rolled over, and she was snuggled up against his back with her fingers curled into his shirt. Being held from behind by her made him smile. Freeing himself from her delicious hold, he had to get up to check his wounds in the light of day. He pulled his shirt off, seeing that it was mostly soaked through with blood, not all of it his. Tormund knew his body, knew the which aches belonged to the pains he’d suffered in his life. There was a new ache along his right side. When he touched it there was a stinging sensation. A new wound meant a new scar. 

Brienne couldn’t remember ever being so warm in her life. When that heat was gone, she noticed. It pulled her from the deep sleep she had been in to find her Wildling admirer gone. Sitting up, her eyes found him standing a little ways away from the bed with his shirt off and his body riddled with bruises, cuts, and dried blood. All she could do was sit there and stare at him while he tended to the wounds that were undoubtedly on the front of his body. 

Tormund took the cold, wet rag and wiped away the blood along his side. The cut wasn’t deep and wouldn’t require him to stitch it up. It did, however, need to be cleaned and covered with a free folk remedy. A slight creek from the bed behind him had him stopping, his senses listening for a threat. His instincts recalled Brienne. She had slept in his arms last night. He turned back to see her eyes on him, they were slightly wide, and her lips parted. “They’re all old wounds,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling.

Brienne got out of bed and went to him. The front of his body was riddled with bruises and blood, minor cuts and one long gash along his side. “Why didn’t you get your wounds looked at already?” she asked in a rush. Seeing him like this made her realize just how he narrowly escaped death with the rest of them.

“Others needed the attention more than I did,” Tormund replied with a shrug. Living all of his live North of the wall, he had to learn to be skilled at many things. Medicine being one of those things. He had a salve of different medicinal herbs mixed up and ready to be used. The, his eyes raked over the front of her and saw blood on her, as well as a cut through her linen shirt. Forgetting where they were, he reached for her, but she backed away quickly. “You’re hurt too.”

Brienne hadn’t noticed, but the jarring movement as she backed away from him made the wound noticeable. She dropped her hand down and felt the stinging pain over her hip. In this moment, she could either walk away or give him a chance. She went against her better judgment and stayed. Reaching out to him, she took his hand and placed it over her wound and then nodded, giving him her consent. 

“Go, lie on the bed,” Tormund told her with a small smirk. He was giving her the option not to listen to him, to walk right out of the room. In her eyes, he saw the first spark of interest. She wanted to be defiant, to argue with him, to challenge him. Yet, curiosity won out. She wondered what he was after. That was simple. He was after her – all of her.

Brienne rolled her eyes, but never the less, she did as he told her, which was odd given her public attitude towards him. She could feeling something building between them and she wanted to see where it was headed. Lying back on the bed felt good to her weary, battle worn body. She had never fought anything like the legion of dead that had swarmed Winterfell two days ago. It took all she had to keep fighting, to keep living. For a moment, she closed her eyes and before she knew it, Tormund’s fingers were curling into the band of her trousers. She looked down the line of her body at him, her stomach muscles tensing.

“Trust me,” Tormund said before she could form the thought to slap him. Then, to show her, he slid the edge of her pants down far enough to expose her wound, and he stopped. He moved his hands up to her blood and sweat splattered shirt, pushing it up to expose her abdomen. Again, he stopped and held his hands up to show her he wasn’t going to push her further.

Brienne angled her head to the side, seeing an angry slash across her right hip. She hadn’t even noticed that she was hurt until he mentioned it. Her eyes tracked over to him and she nodded, silently telling him to continue. She wasn’t sure what to expect from him while they were alone. He seemed sincere, and that was what confused her. When others were around, he was different. But alone…. Was this what he was really like when other people weren’t judging him? 

Tormund got up and retrieved the basin of water and a clean rag. He carried it back to the bed, setting it on the floor and dipping the cloth into the water. He ringed it out and then started to clean away the dried blood. She hissed when the cold water touched her skin. He could tell the slash to her body had come from a dead free folk blade, a serrated one belonging to a Thenn. Tormund kept that to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to tell her that the dead man had been one of the Free Folk. He glanced at her to see if she was still watching him. She was and for long moments he did nothing but stare back at her. 

Brienne was seeing yet another new side of Tormund that she didn’t know what to do with. He wasn’t leering at her or doing any of the things he normally did when people were around. He was simply holding her gaze, his eyes gentle and full of emotion. She smiled when she thought about him clapping for her. Tormund was genuine, honest about everything. Thinking about him now made her heart skip a beat. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

Tormund smiled lightly at her and continued to tend her wound. After the blood and grime had been cleaned away, he spread the medicinal salve over the cut, then let it dry. From personal experience, the salve would go on cold, sting for a few minutes, and then turn warm to sooth away any lingering aches and pains. Her face switched from being at peace to contorting into discomfort. “I know it hurts, but let the medicine work,” he said.

Brienne closed her eyes, pushing the back of her head into the pillow. She breathed short and shallow, her finger curling into the blanket. His larger hand covered her right hand, offering her a small measure of comfort until the stinging sensation died away. Soothing warmth settled on her wound in the next breath. He wasn’t finished with her yet, though. Tormund had a roll of cloth bandage in his hand. He set the edge to her wound, holding it in place, and then moved the roll to the left. Without being told to, she lifted her hips so he could continue. This put his body close to her and she felt the heat of him.

Tormund forced his mind to focus on binding her wound and not drawing in too much of her scent. He would hold himself to the promise he made to not push her into something she wasn’t ready for. They had a little bit of time between the next war. He had time to show her the softer side of a wildling. While his mind was occupied, his hands finished wrapping the bandage. He tucked the edge in and then pulled her linen shirt back down to cover her. “All done,” he said with a smirk.

Brienne sat up and said, “Now, let me help you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tormund replied, sitting back. 

“I let you fiddle with my hip, the least you can do is let me bind your wounds in return.” Brienne frowned at him gently. Her skin was still tingling from where he touched her. 

“Then, give me a kiss first,” Tormund responded in a cheeky manner. He had a sense that he could play with her a little bit. Some wall between them had crumbled down during the night while they slept. There was this new sense of ease that he wanted to keep or as long as he could. 

“A kiss? What guarantee do I have that you’ll stop at a single kiss?” Brienne asked as she tried to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. It shouldn’t be doing that with him.

“My word,” Tormund replied, making a face at her, saying that was a silly question. He wasn’t some amorous, foolhardy young man that thought with his cock more than his brain. She was a woman that didn’t know how to handle a man’s advances. He didn’t want to scare her off.

Brienne did something she never thought she would. She reached out her hand and placed her palm on his chest. Heat leapt between them. It took her breath away and she didn’t know what to do with it. He was unlike any other man she’d ever come in contact with. She didn’t know what to do with his honesty, even though that was what she wanted more than anything from people. Giving in this once, she leaned in, and pressed her lips to his, feeling the brush of his beard against her skin.

The only part of Tormund that moved was his lips. He let them pucker, to apply pressure and turn it into a kiss. The press of her lips to his was the sweetest thing he’d ever felt in his life. They were soft and warm, and he wanted more of her kiss. Except, he’d given his word, and would press for nothing more than a single kiss. So, he reluctantly pulled back and said, “Just a kiss, like I promised.”

He had promised, Brienne realized. Yet, she found herself wanting another, and then another. First, though, she had to tend to his wounds, like she had said she would. “Stand up,” she said, lightly though. Brienne wanted him to know she was keeping the ease between them. The wound was across the right side of his ribs. Picking up the rag, she rang the water out and then set to the task of cleaning away the rest of the dried blood. 

Tormund was starting to feel his wounds, the aches, and the pains from the war with the dead. Each time Brienne ran the cloth over a part of his battered body the pain eased away. After a few minutes he hardly realized that his side hurt. It was because of her healing touch or it could be that he was so deep in love with her that pain no longer mattered so long as she was touching him. Tormund knew it was a combination of both. 

Brienne lowered the rag and said, “You’ll have a scar here.” Gently, she traced the outer edge with the back of her index finger. He responded to her touch, though she wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or pleasure.

“Another one,” Tormund replied gruffly and then shrugged his left shoulder. “It’ll match all the rest.” 

Brienne looked him over after he said that. His torso was indeed a map of scars telling how he survived such a harsh life up North. She wanted to touch each one, to hear the stories behind them. At the moment, she couldn’t. His wound needed the same kind of attention as he had shown to hers. Before she had a chance to ask, he handed her the little clay pot that was filled with the medicine he’d used on her. Dipping her index and middle fingers into the concoction, she carefully spread it on his wound. He growled lightly but didn’t so much as flinch. “How often do you use this stuff?” she asked. 

“Not as often as you might think,” Tormund replied and then winked when she looked up at him. 

Brienne’s heart fluttered against her will. He was being sweet – he was always sweet to her in his own way – and it was confusing to her still. She looked away, thinking about things. His fingers touched the underside of her chin, urging her to look back up at him. Brienne wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes, but whatever it was had her standing. Her eyes took in the scar along his left collar bone. It looked like something had tried to gnaw through his flesh to get at the bone just below. “This could have killed you,” she said touched the ravaged scar.

“But it didn’t,” Tormund replied, chuckling lightly. He’d been attacked by one of the dead years ago. The only thing that had saved his life had been when he managed to light the corpse on fire, and that same flame burned his wound, stemming the flow of the blood. 

Brienne didn’t linger on the scar for long. Her eyes drifted down to another one that should have killed him. A jagged line rested on the left side of his chest, right over his heart. “How are you still alive?” she asked as she traced the edge of the wound with the tip of her finger. 

“The stupid fucker who did this didn’t know how to kill a man properly,” Tormund replied. While she still inspected his scar, he saw some of her own. There was the tip of a pale line peeking out from the edge of the collar of her linen shirt. Moving it aside, he saw three parallel lines. “What did that to you?”

“A bear,” Brienne answered, not bothering to cover it from him. “I was pushed into a pit, given a wooden sword, and….” She couldn’t finish. The men that served under the Bolton banner had wanted her to die in a horrible manner and all for their own amusement. 

“How did you survive?” Tormund asked, careful not to startle her as he dropped his hand back down to her waist. He checked her wound to make sure the bandage was still holding in place. 

Brienne smiled sadly – she wasn’t sure why. “It was Jaime. He risked his freedom to come back for me.” 

“Then I owe him a great deal,” Tormund said. 

Brienne furrowed her brow at this and asked, “Why?”

“He saved your life so that we might meet at Castle Black,” Tormund replied. He didn’t put much stock in destiny, but after what he’d seen happen to Jon Snow, his resurrection, and then seeing dragons…. He couldn’t afford to rule anything out.

“You think there is some grand scheme at work that wants us to be together?” Brienne asked, thoroughly disbelieving his words to her.

“Then what would you call it?” Tormund challenged. 

“Coincidence, nothing more. It was pure chance.” Brienne turned from him to get herself under control. She found it hard to believe that everything she’d done, every step she’d taken had been on path that would lead her to meet Tormund. It seemed so absurd. And yet…? They had met. 

“Chance can’t explain everything,” Tormund replied. To give her the space she needed, he took a step back. He didn’t want to crowd her.

Brienne lay back on the bed, her left arm coming up to cover her eyes. She didn’t believe that she was destined to meet Tormund. She didn’t believe that she was fated to survive the great war. She just had. It had been her skill and determination that kept her going, that kept her alive during that fight. Except, there was this little voice in the back of her head telling her that he survived too. They both had. Then her mind replayed the kiss she had given him. She had done that. His lips pressed to hers felt so good. That wasn’t the only part of him that had felt right touching her. His fingers had been extremely gentle as he cleaned and bound her wound. She hadn’t felt sick when he touched her. She had felt warmth. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that she wanted to feel it again. 

Tormund picked up his shirt and the heavy outer layer of furs. He was going to get dressed and leave her to her musings. He couldn’t push her too far too fast or else he might risk scaring her. While he was distracted, her hand touched his shoulder. It was a light touch, but it carried with it so much. Facing her, he looked into her eyes and saw a need. Slowly, he set his hand to her hip, the heel of his hand covering her wound. He couldn’t tell if she was trembling or if he was. Cautiously, he took a step closer, putting his torso against hers. She didn’t back up or push him away. Instead, her hand came to rest on his chest right over his heart. Before he thought to ask her anything, she was angling her head and pressing her lips to his once more. He brought his hand up, brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek.

Brienne gasped. “Your fingers are cold,” she said, moaning into the kiss. She didn’t back away from him. If anything, she moved closer, needing more of him against her, not just his lips. 

“Your cheeks are hot,” Tormund replied. It was as if a dragon’s flame had burst to life under her skin. She felt so warm that he had to have more. He craved her like he’d never hungered for another woman. 

“You make me that way,” Brienne responded between kisses. This time, when she broke the kiss, she did so due to her need to breathe, to think about what comes next. While his eyes were closed, his jaw slack, she pulled off her shirt and stood naked from the waist up before him. They were both mottled with bruises, but from his expression, he didn’t see any of them. 

Tormund felt his whole body go still. She was trusting him by showing herself to him and she was trembling. Lifting his right hand, he touched the tip of his finger to the base of her throat, feeling her swallow. Slowly he caressed her skin all while keeping his eyes linked with hers. They were growing unfocused, heavy with building desire. Leaning in, keeping his lips barely above hers, he said in a rough growl, “Tell me you want me.”

Brienne moaned and felt emboldened by the ecstasy running through her veins. She wouldn’t answer him in words. She would show him what she wanted. Taking his hand from her chest, she laced their fingers together, leading him to the bed. Before she could face him again, he pressed his lips to her left shoulder, placing his hands on her hips. Brienne moaned. 

Tormund loved the feel of her skin against his lips. He started to explore her shoulder when she turned to him, her hands cupping his face and she kissed him with a fierce passion. He held her hips, pulling her lower body in against him, letting her feel his desire for her. She didn’t shy away this time. “You’re shaking,” he mumbled. “You’ve never done this before?”

Brienne didn’t reply to him. She put space between them, moving aside the furs on the bed, and then stretched out. Her body was quivering from nerves, from anticipation, and from a strong desire that she’d never allowed herself to feel. She was still a virgin and she was giving herself freely to a man from North of the wall. Her heart was beating wildly out of control thinking about what she was getting into. All her body wanted to feel was the touch of him; her wound all but forgotten. 

Tormund took her silence as an answer. This was to be her first time with a man, and he could see she was nervous. As wild has his desire had become for her, he reigned it in, and focused on pleasuring her. He knelt on the bed, putting himself between her knees and was mindful not to move to fast, lest he spook her. Again, he curled his fingers into the band of her trousers and pulled them down. The worn leather stopped short of revealing the first hint of blond curls nestled between her thighs. He bent down, placing his lips against her belly where he felt her muscles trembling. 

Brienne moaned and then bit her bottom lip to keep any more sound contained. She liked the way his beard scraped alone the skin of her abdomen. On instinct, her knees tightened on his thighs while muscles clenched low in her belly. She liked the slow burn rolling through her body, her desire burning hotter with each kiss of his lips. He nipped her below her navel, and she moaned again, louder this time. Brienne brought her right hand down, her fingers threading through his wild ginger hair. He wasn’t treating her how she thought he would. In the back of her mind, she started to reassess the man she had chosen to give herself to.

Tormund pulled back giving her a wolfish grin. Her pale skin was flushed, her nipples pert, teasing him to take a taste. Even though he was eager to delve inside her virginal depths, he had to make sure she was aroused enough. He wanted to prolong this moment for as long as he could. Gripping her behind the knees, he pulled tighter against him as he leaned down to take one of her lovely, flushed buds into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around and around, listening for her light moans to tell him he should keep going.

Brienne felt every pass of his tongue over her nipple, pulses of pleasure coursed through her body and centered between her thighs. Her hips moved of their own accord, rubbing against his hardness. She felt the wetness growing between her nether lips. This time, after the sensuous swirl of his tongue, he nipped her. It was more erotic than she thought it would be and she liked it. “Oh… gods…” Brienne whimpered in pleasure. 

Tormund let her fall from his mouth, in favor of taking her lips in a heated kiss. He swept his tongue into her mouth, drinking down her moans like he had longed to do. In the fog of passion, he felt her hand slip down between them, touching him through his pants. This time, it was he who moaned. Tormund gave her free reign to touch him, to know exactly what she was getting. He held himself as still as he could while she continued her exploration. 

Brienne swallowed. She could tell he’d not been making idle boasts about his endowments. Her eyes locked with his and she silently conveyed just how nervous she was as well as eager. He smiled that smile at her that had her rolling her eyes, but she was glad for that smile because it relieved the last of her doubts she had about doing this with him. “I’m ready,” she said, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

“Are you now?” Tormund asked and kissed her quickly. Leaning back, he once again set his hands to her pants. He pulled them off of her, tossing them over the side of the bed. Moving to her side, he slipped his hand between her thighs, his middle finger stroking back and forth, coating the pad with her juices. Her cheeks turned a darker pink, but she didn’t look away from him. He pushed his middle finger inside her. 

Brienne reacted, her back arched, and body clamped down on his finger. Her hips moved of their own accord, her body knowing when to move. She savored the way he moved inside her, the way he stoked the pyre of her building desire for him. This was different than all the time she had tried to bring herself pleasure. His middle finger thrust into her over and over in a steady rhythm, so confident in his ability to bring her to release. Brienne turned on her side, facing him, draping her right leg over his thigh to change the angle of his penetration. 

Tormund kept his eyes locked with hers, watching the passion build in her eyes. “Come for me,” he said, his voice low and husky. Each time he moved; he felt her grip tighten on him. He drew out his finger and added a second. She was close already. He wanted to take her over the edge. Adding to the pleasure she was already feeling, his set the pad of his thumb against the little bundle of nerves. “Come for me,” he said again, seconds before he kissed her. One more short thrust of his fingers and she was losing herself in his arms. 

Brienne’s body burst into flames, every inch of her experiencing the powerful release he had just given her. Her right arm draped over his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh. Against his lips, her mouth was open, though no sound came out. She never imagined it could be like this, that her body could feel so alive. And it took a ginger haired Wildling from North of the Wall to show her what it could be like. When the tremors quieted, she put her left hand against his cheek and challenged, “Show me what I’ve been missing.” To drive home her words, her right hand dropped down to cup him, feeling the hardness of him against her palm.

Tormund growled in excitement. Kissing her passionately, he moved her to her back once more before getting out of the bed to shed his pants. It thrilled him to see her shift, to see her eyes trek down his body and take him in. Moving back between her thighs, his eyes caught sight of her left hand gripping the headboard, her knuckles turning white. He braced his left hand on the bed and leaned over her to take her hand in his. When he had their fingers laced together, he said, “Squeeze my hand.” 

Brienne felt a burst of confusion break through the anticipation. “What?” she asked. Though he had already made her wet, her first time was going to hurt, she knew that. Yet, she was going it. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could. He didn’t even flinch. “Why am I doing this?”

“I don’t want to hurt you for your first time,” Tormund replied and then placed a kiss to the center of her chest. “Squeeze and I’ll stop.” He was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. She was giving herself to him and he didn’t want to rush it. He wanted to savor her, savor this moment before anything else happened. Also, he wouldn’t continue the rumor that the Free Folk were selfish barbarians who took only what they wanted. 

Brienne pursed her lips together and nodded. Her heart was fluttering, her stomach full of butterflies, but the look Tormund was giving her made it all worthwhile. She had chosen the right man. Breathing deeply to steady herself, she brought her right hand up and gripped his side lightly. She felt the head of his cock at her entrance and with a little push had him taking her virginity. Her inner flesh stretching didn’t hurt at first, until he pushed deeper inside her. The first sting of pain had her hissing and her knees pressing against his hips.

Tormund slowly worked his hard length inside her, mindful of the grip she had on his hand. The moment she squeezed; he would hold himself where he was. Another inch of him slipped inside of her and she clenched his hand tightly. Gasping, he stopped, even though he was being seduced by the luscious tightness of her body. Her eyes were closed, her head pushed back into the pillow, and her chest rising and falling unevenly. “Too… fast…?” he managed to ask between gasps.

“No…” Brienne answered, moving her head from side to side. Her hunger wanted more, wanted all of him. Her body fought to allow him entrance, unaccustomed to the intrusion. Then, he was pulling out, and she nearly protested. She whimpered, her mouth falling open, when he thrust back in. This time, she opened for him a little easier. There was more pleasure than pain. Brienne moaned, rising up to kiss him. The initial discomfort she felt was gone. All she wanted not was the fiery ecstasy spreading through her body.

Tormund sank into her, into the kiss and into her body. The grip she had on his hand lessened as her body relaxed for him, letting him slide into her with ease. She started to move with him, meeting his slow thrust with vigor. Still, he would take his time, giving her pleasure to gain his own. The sound of her moans danced through his head, making him dizzy with desire, spurring him to increase his pace. Her body welcomed him with ease, her legs wrapping around him.

Brienne couldn’t contain her moans any longer. Her right arm draped across his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. She met him thrust for thrust, each long, slow slide of his cock inside her brought her closer to coming undone again. Tormund drove into her deeply, holding himself above her. And that was that. Her body clamped down on him, milking him for every last drop of his seed. His blue eyes met hers and the passion she felt; she saw reflected back at her. She couldn’t believe how good this would all feel, especially with him. 

Tormund’s whole body quivered with his powerful release. His strength was leaving him, and he had no choice but to fall to her side. Brienne lay beside him, her body flushed, her stomach quivering. She was smiling. He reached his hand up and ran the back of his fingers along the line of her jaw. She turned, her lips kissing his knuckles with a light chuckle dancing on the silence, mingling with the crackling of the fire in the hearth. He knew that her body was spent and soon she would be succumbing to sleep. It would afford him the opportunity to watch her.

 

EARLY EVENING:

 

Brienne’s eyes were fluttering open, her mind waking up. She didn’t know how long she’d been asleep after giving herself to the ginger Wildling, Tormund. The passion she experienced in his arms had been unexpected, yet thoroughly welcome. She looked up at the stone ceiling and then to her left, almost expecting to find the bed empty. But there he was. “You stayed…” she sighed, not sure if it was a statement or a question.

Tormund furrowed his brow and asked, “Was I not supposed to?”

“I didn’t think you would,” Brienne replied quietly, rolling to her side to face him. “You got what you wanted out of me…” Why would she say that? The sex had been amazing. Was she trying to scare him away? She didn’t know even if she could scare him away. 

Tormund nodded, growling lightly. “I haven’t begun to get what I wanted,” he answered. Before she could wind herself up to argue – because he knew that’s where her mind wanted to go – he leaned into her, kissing her. Sweeping his tongue passed her lips, he concentrated on stoking the fires of her hunger. Her body would be craving release again and he intended to be there to see her sated as many times as she desired. 

Brienne could have pushed him back, could have instigated a confrontation that was certain to drive a wedge between them. Except, she couldn’t do it. She liked the way he kissed her. She had liked the way he’d given her so much pleasure, her skin still tingled from it. His kiss was wild and addicting. She wanted more of it, more of him. Despite the discomfort throbbing between her thighs, she pressed herself against him. 

Tormund gave her a feral grin as he slid the tips of his fingers down the front of her body and towards the juncture of her thighs. When he touched her, she flinched, but didn’t pull away. “Want me to stop?” He meant what he said last night; hurting her was not what he wanted. She was the most exhilarating woman he’d ever met. 

Brienne grinned and said, “Not on your life.” The pain, as uncomfortable as it was, also held a trace of pleasure to it. Kissing him, she pumped her tongue into his mouth, and rubbed against his fingers. In the span of her next breath, his finger slid inside her. She hissed into his mouth, a laugh following closely after that. The initial sting faded quickly as the warmth spread through her. This time, she moved her hips more, determined to chase away the last lingering pricks of pain from her first time. 

Tormund cupped her mound, his middle finger idly thrusting away, stirring her up. He could feel her body clamping down tight, trying to hold him inside her. Pulling out, she frowned against his lips, and then nipped his bottom lip. He gave her what she wanted. Two fingers invaded her, making her moan and cling to him. He moved faster, wanting to bring her over the edge one more time. Her body tensed, in the next second she was coming again. 

Brienne was coming down, her body wracked with little aftershocks. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was distantly aware of a furious pounding breaking the silence of the room. A gruff voice was calling to Tormund, taking him away from her and the bed. She distinctly heard him cursing, his voice low and menacing. It made her grin lazily. The loss of his body brought on wave after wave of cold chills. With whatever power she had left, she pulled the fur blanket over her and waited until she settled down.

Tormund had been so wrapped up in his blonde-haired beauty that he’d nearly lost all track of time. He pulled on his pants before returning to the edge of the bed where he sat. Gently, he shook her shoulder. “Brienne,” he called to her, using her name. Tormund made sure his voice was a soft rumble.

“I’m awake,” Brienne responded. Those two words were slurred with the first edges of sleep, however. She opened her eyes to look at him and his face had changed. Gone was the amorous fire in his eyes. In its place was sadness. Then she remembered. “The funeral.” Sitting up immediately, she started to search for her clothing, when he handed her pants to her. She got out of bed, leaving the warmth of the blanket behind and stepped into them. 

Tormund took her hand, pulling her back to him. Before she could say anything, he leaned in and placed a kiss to her stomach. Her hands cupped his face, her fingers curling into his beard. They had this to get through and then they could see where the future would take them. They just had to get through the funeral. He was the last of a dwindling people. That thought weighed heavier on him than he ever thought possible. 

 

*****

 

Outside, Brienne stood with Jaime and the Northern soldiers that had gathered. Tormund stood with his people. She wanted to look at him, to see how he was handling everything. While Jon Snow spoke, she barely heard a word. Her eyes focused on the pyres piled high with the bodies of the dead, their forces and those of the Night King and his army. Brienne had never seen so many dead bodies and most of them were of the Free Folk, those taken by the Night King. She clenched her fists, fighting her urge to let her gaze track to Tormund. Now more than ever she wanted to look at him. 

Tormund took the lit torch and walked down a row to the first pyre bearing the remains of his people. The first face he saw was that of a woman that escaped Hardhome with him just as the dead had broken down the walls. Turning from her dead face, Tormund waited for Jon, his sister, and the dragon Queen to light the first set of pyres. He was far enough away that he wouldn’t be noticed staring at Brienne. She was the last bit of solace he would allow himself to have. He could admit, he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing her stand next to the one-handed lion. Then, fire roared to life as the first pyres were lit. He, and the others lit there’s as well. Fire and smoke rose into the night air.

 

******

 

After the pyres had burned to ash, those that still lived went into the Great Hall for a feast. At first the air was somber, small conversations took place at various tables, but no one wanted to say much. Everyone concentrated on eating. Brienne sat with Jaime and Podrick, her heart heavy with the numerous dead that were still smoldering embers outside. A servant girl tried to fill her goblet with wine, but she covered the top, shaking her head. It was Jaime that pulled her hand off. 

“We fought dead things and lived. Now is the time to drink,” Jaime stated and poured her a generous amount. 

Brienne relented and picked up her goblet. The moment her lips touched the rim, she felt eyes boring into her back, and she knew who they belonged to. Her Wildling admirer – lover – was watching. She wasn’t going to give in, to turn around, and stare at him right back. From that first sip, she felt herself unwinding. 

A little while later, Queen Daenerys had made Gendry Rivers into Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storms End. Cheers broke out. Then a lighter atmosphere took hold of the Great Hall. Even Brienne felt it and let the rising good mood carrying her along on its tide. It was easier to convince her to play Lord Tyrion’s truth game when he came stumbling over. 

Tormund kept his ears open for Brienne’s voice; her laughter. It was such a pleasing sound that did much to chase away the last lingering tendrils of sorrow. He stayed where he was, laughing and joking with Jon Snow. Currently, he was trying to get his friend to do some heavy drinking with him. Jon, however, wasn’t taking the bait. All too soon, Snow turned his attention to the dragon Queen, and Tormund was left to find another playmate. He caught sight of The Dog – or something close to that. Getting up, he walked over to where the burned man was sitting, drowning himself in alcohol. He dropped down to the bench and nudged the man’s shoulder. 

Brienne laughed in earnest. Pod had used a piece of information that she told him years ago. It was still true, and she had to drink. Then Lord Tyrion pinned her with his speculative – somewhat drunk – stare. She did her best to have a mask of mystery fall into place, but a thought kept replaying in her mind. Tormund’s lips feasting at hers, his body against her. Shifting, her thighs tightened against the ache that had started to form. Her hunger for him had started to rise with the first taste of wine she had. 

“You’re a virgin,” Tyrion stated a bit drunkenly. 

Brienne let all expression fall from her face. Of all the statements he could have made, he had to make that one. It wasn’t true, of course. Then, she looked at Jaime. His eyes were curious, though a little certain he knew the answer. Giving her attention back to the Hand, she said, “Drink.” 

“Wait… what?” Tyrion was shocked. 

“Drink,” Brienne said again, smiling.

“I said, fuck off!”

Brienne had heard the Hound shout. She turned in time to see Tormund crash into her table, his back slamming against the edge, and there was blood welling up on his lip. She laughed, much from amusement as it was from the wine she had already had. “Don’t you know by now to leave him alone?” she asked, her tone a light scolding chuckle. 

Tormund smiled at her, wiping the blood from his lip. It wasn’t a celebration without a little bit of blood being spilled. His. Others. It didn’t matter, really. Sitting up, he looked at her, seeing the amusement in her eyes and then he took in the nearly empty goblet of wine in her hand. “What’re you doing?” he asked. 

“Playing a drinking game,” Brienne replied, glancing at Jaime and Tyrion. 

“I like drinking,” Tormund stated with a slight nod of his head. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Brienne quipped. She got up and motioned for him to sit where she had been. “You sit here and let Lord Tyrion….”

“No,” Jaime cut in. “I’ll do it.” 

“All right,” Brienne said with a chuckle. This could get interesting. Too bad she wasn’t going to be around for it. “Ser Jaime will make a series of statements about you. If they’re true, you drink. If they’re false, he drinks.” 

“This is fun for you?” Tormund asked skeptically. 

“Can be,” Brienne replied. 

“I don’t think I want to play,” Tormund said after a few seconds. He angled his head back, looking up at Brienne. There was something else he wanted more. Her, in bed, and nothing between them. 

Brienne smirked, gripped his chin, and turned his face towards Jaime. “Play for a little while and then you can come find me,” she said, giving him an incentive to stay, and her a little time to indulge. 

Tormund’s ears perked up at that. He looked at her again and asked, “Really?”

Brienne turned his face away from her and then patted his cheek harder than she should have as she answered, “Really.” She picked up the carafe of wine and poured him a generous amount in the goblet she had abandoned, before handing it to him. 

“Wait, wait! You didn’t answer my question,” Tyrion called out. 

“I told you to drink,” Brienne shouted at him, her tone laughing. Then she was walking away. With all of the living inhabitants of Winterfell in the Great Hall, Brienne could go back to her room and indulge in a hot bath. 

Tormund watched her go, fighting the urge to follow. Unwillingly, he looked away, and focused his attention on the one-handed lion. The other man was scowling at him. So, he waited for the game to start. As it was, he was getting bored. 

Jaime hadn’t missed the way Brienne’s demeanor to the Wildling fellow had changed drastically from annoyed to playful. He could chalk it up to the wine he’d been pouring for her, the game they were playing, and of course – more wine. Looking the other man dead square in the eyes he said, “You slept with Brienne.”

Tormund furrowed his brow and asked the boy next to him, “How much can I drink?”

Pod shrugged one shoulder, replying, “As much as you want… if it’s true.” 

“Hmm…” Tormund picked up his goblet and drained it. Before anymore statements could be made about him, he got up and went in search of his blonde beauty. No one looked at him twice as he walked through the row of tables towards the door. He slipped out without so much as a backwards glance. 

 

******

 

Brienne shed the outer layer of her clothing after entering her room. The wounded had been moved to another part of the castle. Her room had been cleaned and a bath was waiting for her. She shed her linen shirt and started to unwrap the cloth bandage, but the last layer tugged on her wound. Brienne waited too long to change the bandage. Though, she had been occupied with other things. Undeniably, Tormund was on her mind. Everything about him should have repulsed her, but it was that wildness about him that called to her. While she thought about him, she stripped out of her boots and her pants, then stepped into the hot water. Sinking down until the water was lapping at the top of her breast’s, she sighed. Her aching body – from the battle and the sex – started to relax, and the tension slowly faded. 

Brienne lightly rubbed at the bandage, feeling the fabric loosening with each pass of her hand. When she pulled the soaked fabric out of the water, she tossed it over the edge. Blindly, she touched her wound and smiled at the memory of Tormund tending to it. He held her hand as the medicine worked. She had let him hold her hand. It had felt right, his skin to hers. Even now, she could still feel his lips pressed to her abdomen, the scrape of his beard against her navel. Her truly was opposite of everything she thought she wanted.

Brienne relaxed further into the tub of hot water. It felt good to have the time to indulge in something as civilized as a hot soak. Her eyes had grown heavy when a knock sounded at her door. “It’s open,” she called out. The sound of the footsteps were the ones she wanted to hear. “How was the game?” she asked without opening her eyes. 

“Boring,” Tormund grumbled and shut the door. “For a drinking game, there wasn’t much drinking going on.” He walked over to the tub and pulled over a chair to sit in. Even in his slightly drunken state, something bothered him about the taller Lannister. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Brienne chuckled, “I did quite a bit of it while playing.” Laughing with Jaime, Pod, and Tyrion had felt good. Living felt good. 

“Is the ‘King Killer’ the one you really want?” Tormund asked. 

Brienne sat up, instantly sobering from his question. “At one time, yes, I wanted him.” He deserved the truth because he had been nothing but honest with her, even when she didn’t know what to do with it. 

“Would you be happier with him?” Tormund pressed for more. Though, part of him wanted to stop, to pretend that he had seen jealousy from the other man.

Brienne shrugged. “Maybe for a little while, but he doesn’t love me, not like he loves someone else.” Like every other woman in the Seven Kingdoms, she had fallen for the blond hair, the sarcastic tongue, the wicked smile, and the noble heart of Jaime Lannister. He’d never looked at her the way she had seen him look at his sister, the Queen. Brienne knew deep down that even if they were able to be together, it wouldn’t last. 

“Well, at least with me, you know I have two good hands,” Tormund said, wiggling all ten of his fingers for her to see. 

Brienne tried not to laugh – she blamed the wine. “He lost his hand because of me,” she said solemnly. 

“You cut it off?” Tormund asked. If she had, he would be even more in love with her than he already was. 

“No,” Brienne immediately denied. Though, she was the cause. “He’d been defending my honor. Keeping me from being…” She cleared her throat, but she could tell he understood her meaning. Tormund reached out to her, the back of his fingers caressing her cheek. Automatically, she pulled away. It was an impulse.

“Still uncertain of a gentle touch?” Tormund asked, not taking her reaction personally. 

“Then help me get used to it,” Brienne challenged.

“Finish that bath and I will,” Tormund replied. His voice dropped down to be nothing more than a sensuous growl. He liked that it made her shiver. He saw her nipples harden and her cheeks start to flush with color. Eagerness spread through him and desire hardened his cock. He would wait for as long as she wanted, knowing that when they had each other again, the pleasure would be all the more intense. 

Brienne decided to make him wait. She sank back, soaking up as much of the warmth as she could, letting it add fuel to her simmering desire. For long moments, they just sat and stared at each other, the only sound was the crackling of the fire. She took in the bruises on his face, the cuts, and the fresh blood still on his bottom lip. It all should have been off putting to her. Yet, seeing him now in a new light, she was happy with the choice she had made. The moment between them now was much like the night when she was knighted. Calm and charged at the same time. 

 

MORNING:

 

Tormund was not normally and introspective man. He took things as they came and went. While he gazed at Brienne, seeing her gloriously naked and scantily covered by the fur blanket she stretched out on her side, he asked, “Why did you choose me?”

Brienne cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing back and forth across his bruised skin. “I chose you because deep down I knew you wouldn’t break my heart,” she answered honestly. Tormund, despite his gruffness with others, had been nothing but kind to her. He’d been gentle and giving to her for her first time. He was still tender and loving even though he’d had her countless times. Then, to show him that she was happy with her choice, she added, “Maybe I just wanted to see if you really knew what to do with that Wildling cock of yours.” Brienne laughed and then hid her face. She couldn’t believe she actually said that to him. 

Tormund laughed uproariously. Leaning in, he said, “Tell me that again.”

Brienne, with her face still hidden, shook her head, laughing as well.

Tormund pulled the blanket off her, brought her leg over his side, and thrust his morning erection into her. She moaned and laughed at the same time, locking her gaze with his. “I think I know how to use it,” he replied, and thrust again. 

Brienne nodded quickly, her hands cupping his face again. “I think so,” she said with another moan. Soon, they dissolved into gasps, grunts, and more moans as they strove for yet another release. She wouldn’t get tired of having sex with him. His wild spirit fueled the wild nature she had inside her.

 

*****

 

Outside, in the hall, Jaime stood outside Brienne’s door trying not to listen to the muffled sounds seeping into the hallway. He hadn’t seen Brienne since last night at the feast. The same could be said of Tormund. And if the sounds he heard in her bedroom were to be believed, then they were in there together. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her and the Wildling being together, but who was he to judge honestly. He was a man deeply in love with his twin sister. Cersei would be the one woman he would choose again and again, no matter what. 

 

THE END


End file.
